No Peace is a promise and a threat. It’s the name of 32 minutes of recorded concussions delivered by Trash Talk on Odd Future Records. It is hardcore punk, it is hardcore hip-hop, it’s a way of telling you to shut the fuck up if you’re try to pigeonhole it.

There’s a certain futility in trying to translate Trash Talk’s assault into adjectives. The only possible response when hearing No Peace is to start a mosh pit or crack someone in the ribs. You should probably seem them live, honestly.

Lee Spielman incites the crowd like a Hun. The guitars and drums blister. The crowd becomes a melee. There will probably be blood. It’s like if Black Flag got pulled under the Timbo’s of M.O.P. If you got sent to the firing squad, middle fingers up, I would recommend that you play this.

No Peace is music for the sake of aggression. Recorded in New York City, this is the closest Trash Talk has come to capturing the chaos on wax. Legendary hip-hop producer Alchemist contributes two filthy beats that Trash Talk drag through the gutter, knuckles up. Drums like brass knuckles. A bonus track features King Krule and Wiki from Rat King spitting rain on soft skulls.

Trash Talk are as mad as anyone, so they snap back. They aren’t trying to tell lucid stories as much as vividly render emotions. It sounds like bone shards swirling in a hurricane.

The lyrics are an attempt to figure things out. Stitch the phrases together and it’s an almost universal indictment: ““I’ve made mistakes.... I’m sick of it... It’s been that way for far too long... thought I’d leave a legacy after me... don’t ever forget this is what you chose... shaved my head, bit my tongue... crack rock... junked up passed out... crashed out on the overpass... traded in a dream now I need a needle to sleep.”

This isn’t some idle fixation for the edge. This captures the squalor and unpleasant scenes that occur outside of the band’s LA warehouse headquarters. Shit is real if you’re paying attention. No Peace will ensure you are. Bang it loud until your eardrums pop.